Night and Shadows
by ariadne melody
Summary: Takes place during 2.14/2.15 at the lake house.
1. Chapter 1

This is basically a lot of smut and a bit of cheese. Reviews/ideas are welcome.

"That's not heroic. That's tragic."

Stefan rushes by her and darts up the stairs, his boots making heavy thudding noises. Elena allows him to go; she needs to collect herself before she tries to tries to talk to him. It should be so much easier to explain her reasons to him, to explain the deal, but she has to find the right words, go about this the right way.

Then again, maybe there is no right way to navigate this truly fucked-up situation.

She finds that he's retreated to the shower, and she silently steps over the pile of clothing and pulls the curtain aside. His back is to her, his shoulders hunched as he stands under the water spray. Briefly she considers waiting for him, giving him a little more time to calm down, but screw consideration, screw planning. She needs to do something now. Slipping out of her clothes, she steps behind him, wraps her arms around his chest. "Stefan," she whispers, pressing her face against his back.

His hands reach for hers, and he slowly turns around to face her. The water spray almost covers the fact that he's been crying; almost, but not quite. Wordlessly Elena reaches up to caress his face, bites her lip when she sees his eyes filled with sorrow and pain and more than a hint of anger.

She glances down at his chest, relieved that any trace of the earlier attack is gone. Pressing her body against his, she doesn't look at him as she begins to kiss his chest, slowly working her way downwards. He makes a strange growling noise and she smiles slightly as she pushes him against the wall, moves to kiss his face while sliding a hand between his legs.

Suddenly Stefan turns them so it's her back against the wall as he aggressively kisses her and tangles his fingers in her hair. The sound of the water is soon accompanied by their moans as they attempt to outdo the other, their tongues and hands in a kind of battle. Picking her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, Stefan continued to assault her throat with kisses as, with a guttural groan, he entered her. This isn't gentle or slow, they're not taking time to pleasure or tease, this is rough and fast and dirty and angry. Even so, Stefan slips a hand behind Elena's head to protect it from hitting the wall from the force of their thrusts, his face buried in her neck as she yells.

Eventually Elena reaches to turn off the water, signaling to Stefan she's ready for a new location. Legs still encircling his waist, Stefan stumbles out of the shower and she instantly slams him against the door, laughing as the door gives way and they collapse on the floor. From there on it's all skin on skin, tongues fighting, feeling and not feeling- anger and passion becomes entwined together as they push against each other, moving from floor to wall to dresser. Eventually they land on the bed, where they continue, hot and raw and angry. Stefan pins her arms above her, but she still manages to taunt him with her legs, impressing them both with her contortionist positions. When he roughly slides a finger inside of her, her legs seem to lose all sense of control and fall apart, granting him more access. Smiling, he moves his hand quickly, making her cry out harder, faster, louder than before. Eventually he releases her wrists and scoots down to use his tongue on her while she grips his hair, directing him, guiding him.

Even as she screams he shifts again, pushing himself inside of her, rising to meet her lips and firmly kiss her. Her hands are once more pinned by his, her body free to press against his as they grind against each other, filling the house with their animalistic sounds.

"Are you still mad?" she whispers when it's over, when he's collapses besides her and she's still trying to catch her breath.

A light chuckle escapes from his throat. "I'm not that easy, Elena."

She shifted so her body curled into Stefan, her head resting on his shoulder, one of her fingers tracing slow patters on his chest. "I don't want to go to any more funerals," she says softly.

He wraps both arms around her but makes no other move to speak. He's not prepared for this, this conversation, not now. He's not sure he'll ever be ready for this, Elena explaining why she's so willing to die.

"At my parents' funeral... it was torture. Standing there with Jeremy and Jenna, knowing I was the reason Mom and Dad were...are dead. I can't do that again, I can't be the reason that people die again."

She looks up at him, her tears falling onto his chest. "Don't you see? I have another chance, I can fix things, I can save the people I love this time. Because going to your funeral? That would kill me. I can't go to your funeral Stefan, I can't. And this way at least everyone I love will be safe-" she breaks off into sobs, buries her face completely into Stefan's chest. He gently rocks her back and forth, kisses the top of her head.

"Elena, Elena, look at me. Baby, look at me," he eventually coaxes her into raising her face, the tears continuing to stream messily.

He stares at her for a moment before softly saying, "I can't go to your funeral either, Elena. Neither can Jeremy or Damon or Caroline. And I can guarantee you that we won't be safe if you just hand yourself over to Klaus, because we won't just sit around drinking tea and moping and talking about our best memories of you. We would, I don't know, we would come up with some sort of revenge scheme or something to avenge you. Look, we're going to fight, no matter what. And yes, it's dangerous, but we're fighting for you, to save you. We'll still fight for you, but it would be so much easier if you were helping us.

"The first time I saw you," he continued after a moment, his tone softening a tad, "I went to help your father first. And he told me to save you. He wanted you to live, your parents wanted you to live, to have a life. What would they want you to do right now- just accept death or fight to live?"

Her breathing is as unsteady as her voice when she whispers, "They would want me to fight."

"Then will you?"

Elena looks up at him, searching his eyes. Slowly, she leans up and kisses his jaw, moves to his lips. The kisses are gentle and slow at first, at least until Elena pushes Stefan down on the bed and climbs on top of him, causing the kisses to turn passionate and searing. Her hair falls around their faces, protecting them from the outside world, and he wishes it could be as simple as that all of the time.

Sunlight's filtering in through the windows when Stefan opens his eyes. Elena's besides him in the bed, sitting up slightly as she writes quickly in her diary, her pen flying across the page. For the moment, Stefan is content to remain still, gazing up at her through slitted eyes. Her body seems more relaxed, less tense- her shoulders aren't so tight or stiff. She's calmer. Absently, it seems, she stops writing and her hand gently runs through his hair while she stares blankly at her diary. Stefan smiles at the touch, feeling vaguely cat-like as she moved to caress his face.

After a moment Elena leans away to throw her diary and pen on the floor before sliding low under the covers again. She turns restlessly before wriggling underneath one of Stefan's arms, pressing her face against his shoulder. Instinctively, he tightens his arm around her body, bringing her closer against him.

In the warm bed it's easy to forget about everything, their lives beyond this moment. Easy to think that all the danger has been exaggerated, that it's all just a bunch of lies Katherine made up for fun, that she and Elijah just decided to team up to freak everyone out just for kicks. Hell, maybe John Gilbert's in on it- he definitely seems the type to enjoy messing with people's minds for no good reason.

His phone vibrates from his discarded jeans and he knows it's probably something terribly important, but he just can't be bothered right now. Elena has fallen into a light sleep and he doesn't want to move, to disturb her. Maybe if they stay here long enough all of the problems will just go away.

The phone keeps ringing, though. Elena's body tenses, her face twitching against his skin. She raises her head and looks at him sleepily.

"Are you going to answer that?" she asks.

Stefan shrugs, brushes some of her hair away from her face. "Eventually."

"It could be important..." Elena trailed off as Stefan began to kiss her neck and arched her back to give him better access.

"You're more important," he says as he shifts them so she's on her back and he's looking down at her. They lock eyes and Elena blushes under his gaze. It's the intensity, the focus, the way he looks at her as if she's the only person he's ever looked at or ever wants to look at.

"What?" she asks softly. "Stefan?"

"You're beautiful," he said, touching her face gently. "I love you so much."

Her face reddens as she reaches to grab his hand tightly. "I love you."

It's the opposite from last night, when their love-making had been rough, a form of attack. Now, though, they're slow, agonizingly so at times. Stefan slowly kisses his way down Elena's body, his hands sliding between her legs, making her writhe gently and not bother to control her body's responses. She wishes it could be like this forever.

When it's over Stefan lazily strokes Elena's stomach, planting kisses on her face, neither one ready to face the day.

"I wish it could always be like this," Elena suddenly said. "That we didn't have to think about moonstones or dopplegangers."

"What would we do with our lives then?" Stefan half-jokes.

"Normal stuff," she glances at him, smiles a little. "I want to do normal stuff with my vampire boyfriend. That's what this weekend was supposed to be- all romance and fun, not... werewolves."

And suicide plots, Stefan thought, but didn't say it out loud. "You mean this weekend was supposed to be about us, not about avoiding certain people?"

Elena rolled her eyes as she said, "I do tend to think about you more than I think of John."

"You better," Stefan murmured as he began to kiss her again, long, slow kisses.

Stefan's still collapsed on the bed, apparently out for a good long while when Elena slowly makes her way to the shower, pausing before closing the door to stare at Stefan, muffling her laughter.

She's enjoying the spray of warm water when she feels him staring at her.

"And you call me creepy," she smiles as she looks at him over the shoulder.

He's standing just inside the bathroom, gazing at her in that way that makes her shiver.

"Enjoying the show?" she says, turning around. "You're welcome to join in."

Slowly, he steps into the bathtub, still looking at her in that way that seems to see her entire soul. A blush spreads across her face again and she ducks her head and busies herself by grabbing the bottle of shampoo. Glancing back up at him, she offers him the bottle and turns around so he can massage the hair. This is definitely something we should do more often, she thinks as she leans back against him, enjoying the way his fingers work against her scalp. His hands, along with the warm water, have a way of relaxing her.

"I love you," she whispers.

In response, Stefan slides one hand down her back, rests his chin on her shoulder, similar to how things started last night. Despite his roaming hands, she doesn't think he has the same thing in mind.

"What's wrong?" she asks and turns to look at him. The water spray hits his face, but doesn't hide the fact he's crying. Frowning, she touches his face and asks, "Stefan, what's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks. "Why didn't you tell me- or anyone- about what you thought about Elijah's deal?"

It feels like a step back from last night. "Why do you ask?"

"Elena."

"Because I knew it would upset everyone," she admits. "Can we just not talk about this right now?"

"You didn't answer me from last night," he persists. "About deciding to fight or not."

"Stefan-"

"Elena, please."

She bites her lip, turns her face up to the water to hide the tears that she knows are just ready to spill. "I... I'm not sure, Stefan."

"How can you not be sure about something like this?" he explodes but instantly tries to calm himself, running a hand over his face and trying to think of the right thing to say. "Elena, baby, I'm sorry-"

"Stefan, if I go back on the deal, I'm afraid of what Elijah will do to everyone," she says softly, so that she can't hear herself over the water.

"How is helping us help you backing out of the deal?" Stefan tries to control the tone of his voice, but control isn't really an option right now.

"I'm not sure I want to," she says, unable to look at him in the eye, unsure why she says the words. Does she mean them? Frankly, she's not even sure of that herself.

Unable to answer her, to think of a response that won't hurt either of them, Stefan gets out of the tub and wraps a towel around himself, leaving Elena alone in the shower. He quickly dresses, not even done with putting his shirt on as he half runs, half trips down the stairs, needing air and space and time to think. The phone's ringing yet again, has been non-stop all morning, but talking to Damon right now is so not an option.

Elena watches him through the window, watches as he throws stones at the lake, as he paces and kicks the air. She wants to go out there and talk to him, finally sort this out, but she's not really sure what to say, what to do.

She's not sure of anything right now.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I've decided to continue with this story, but so far I've been having some problems writing it (writer's block issues, etc). Hopefully I'll get another chapter up in the next few days or so. Reviews/feedback always appreciated!

Anger. Wrath. Fury. Confusion. Sadness. Dismay. Anguish.

The words float around Stefan's mind, but no word can fully describe the torrent of emotions he's feeling right now. There's nothing he can do about it either- he can't drive or run off because that would mean leaving Elena, which is completely not even in his vocabulary right now. Leaving Elena. Just those two words linked together send icy chills down his spin, make him want to hit something, someone.

So he throws rocks at the lake. It's not much, but it's something.

It's his anger at Elena that, frankly, is kind of scaring him. Nix the kind of. He feels like he's never been mad at anyone like this before, not Damon, not his father, not Katherine.

Because he's never loved anyone like Elena.

He grits his teeth and throws another rock, not particularly noticing or caring that it skips far across the water. Fuck the rocks, fuck the lake, fuck the Originals.

Breathing in, he tries to calm himself down, tries to think logically, rationally. That, however, pretty much stops when he thinks of where he left Elena, standing in the shower, admitting that she wasn't sure if she wanted to fight. Unsure if she really meant those words- but she sure as hell meant what she said last night, about not wanting anyone else to die for her. Part of him thinks he understands that, thinks it's selfless, noble even.

By far the larger part insists that it's not, that it's one of the most selfish things he ever heard of, at least from Elena.

Turning back to the house, he stared at the windows, trying to pick out movement. He thinks he catches a glimpse of Elena gazing out from an upstairs window, staring at him, but he might just be imagining it, hoping too much. Maybe she's just as angry with him as he is with her. Maybe more.

The nagging thought- why didn't she tell him? If she suspected that Elijah's plan was for her to die, why the hell didn't she tell him? To protect him, probably. Another rock gets thrown.

But then, protection is usually behind the majority of Elena's actions. Or inactions. Keeping Jenna in the dark, for instance- dangerous, yes, stupid, probably- but Elena was hellbent on protecting her aunt from the supernatural. Keeping Jenna's life as normal as possible under the circumstances.

He just wishes she had told him.

Then again, he thinks as he glances back at the house, he's done the same thing countless times. To Elena, to Lexi, everyone. He bites his lip, thinking of 1864, the first few wild weeks after he was turned. The time he doesn't like to think about, what he tries never to think about, what he wants desperately to keep hidden from Elena. Not out of malice, but shame, the deepest sort that's rooted in him, of the memories that always, unfailingly appear whenever he's not on his guard. Torturing women, torturing the Founding Families, torturing Damon.

Sometimes at night, a random face or picture of the past will startle him from sleep. Jonathan Gilbert's terrified face as he catches sight of Stefan in the shadows. A nameless girl covered in blood. These images wake him and he'll have to detach himself from Elena's arms, feeling too evil and monstrous to be near her, too dirty and full of too many mistakes, too ashamed that she'll come to her senses and see him for what he is. What he was.

Somehow the movement always wakes her. She'll either roll back against him, or, if he's gotten out of bed, drowsily cross to the window where he always stands, wrap a blanket around the two of them, slowly coax him back to bed. In the morning she doesn't interrogate him or question him too heavily; she seems to understand.

It's similar to her nightmares. Or at least he guesses. They don't happen very often, not anymore. She'll wake, her body covered in sweat, her eyes terrified, her hands clutching the sheets while she cries softly. She's only ever said of these, "The first time you saw me," and he knows it's of the crash, of drowning, of her parents dying. Or maybe it's not even of the crash itself, but a bundle of what ifs.

He throws another rock. Pointless and getting no where, reminiscing of lost time.

Maybe it's a place to start, telling her about that time. He doesn't want to tell her, doesn't want to see the look on her face when she learns what he did.

But maybe he has to. Maybe, if he tells her about that time, a time where he was ready to give up and how Lexi saved him, maybe that will trigger something in her.

Squaring his shoulders, he turns back to the house, no where near ready for this conversation, not ready for the look of disappointment that will inevitably come across Elena's face, but willing to do anything really to convince her to fight.

And then Damon calls with yet more bad news, and Stefan is left to think that there's no possible way in hell that this weekend can get any worse. After starting out so well, full of quiet romance and tangled limbs, this weekend has turned into suicide plans and seriously unadvised dinner parties. Still, he tries to give himself a pep talk: Alaric will be there! Alaric will stop Damon from doing something seriously stupid! Elena will... well, they'll talk, start talking again, maybe get back on track. At least, he thinks, the worst part is over, probably.

He's wrong.

Author's Note (Again): Thanks for all the helpful reviews so far! I have a couple other stories (more one-shots mostly) that I'm working on, so more stuff should get posted shortly... hopefully.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry about the delay in this- this part was problematic, and I'm not really thrilled with it. I think there are about 2 more chapters of this story; they should be posted soon. As always, reviews are appreciated. Thanks so much for the reviews so far!

* * *

_"It sounds like you were Damon."_

_"I was worse._"

So Stefan had murdered people, stalked them, tortured them. He had been a monstrous creature, callous and cruel and caring only for blood and pathos. And now he was making her a grilled cheese sandwich.

Elena almost couldn't acquit the two Stefans, the monster described by Jonathan Gilbert and the one she knew. Yet, she supposed it was fathomable- the guilt Stefan constantly carried around, how he had been so opposed to drinking human blood, how even though he told her stories about his adventures with Lexi he was never willing to tell her how they had met. And, okay, hearing Stefan had hunted founding families, including her own family, wasn't exactly welcome news.

But it doesn't make her afraid of him. It doesn't make her stop loving him.

Stefan silently handed her a plate with her sandwich on it, looked at the place besides on the couch and then looked away, clearly not sure of what her feelings toward him were right now. Smiling slightly, uneasily, she patted the place besides her. Hesitantly he sat down, and she wondered what it was that made him so unsure. His past or her deal with Elijah? Looking for something to do, he picked up and journal and pretended to be absorbed in it.

After a moment Elena sighed and said gently, "The handwriting's a lot easier to read to read right-side up. Although, I suppose reading it upside-down could reveal some sort of, I don't know, hidden clues or symbols or something."

The book was instantly turned the right way.

"This sandwich is good by the way, thanks."

"I figured I owed you after the dinner debacle," he said, slowly meeting her eyes.

"You're equating grilled cheese with whatever it was you were going to make? I think you're selling yourself short on the cooking front."

Stefan smiled a bit. "I'll make it up to you."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Both of them relaxed slightly, the frosty air from this morning not quite gone, but not filling the room as much. Stefan kept glancing at Elena, tried to figure out how disturbed she was by his past; she seems to have taken it relatively calmly, not reacting with horrified gasps or shrieks. Out of the corner of his eye he sees that she keeps glancing at him as well. It's a bit like they're in class and have to make do with discrete (or not) glances and half-hidden smiles.

"How are you feeling?" Elena suddenly asked. "The wooden bullets, they didn't hurt you that much, right? Did you drink enough blood?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Good," she said as she carried her plate into the kitchen, left it in the sink. Dishes were so not a priority right now. Sighing slightly, she walked back to the living room and asked, "Why now? Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

Stefan's back straightened and his shoulders tensed. "I don't like talking about it."

"I get that. But why tell me now- are you just trying to distract me or something?"

"No. I- it was a dark time in my life, a time where there wasn't any...hope or anything, and Lexi helped me through it, showed me life didn't have to be all... doom and gloom. And I didn't tell you before because I... I thought it would change the way you look at me," he kept his eyes steadily based on the coffee table, memorizing the lines and grooves.

"Stefan."

Reluctantly, he glanced up at her. She gently touched his face, fingers softly caressing his cheek. "I love you. Learning about your past doesn't change that."

"I would understand-"

"I love you, Stefan, _you_." She leaned against him, placing her head on his shoulder as she rubbed his neck. "And I love Lexi for helping you."

By now his arms are wrapped tightly around her, pulling her closer to him. They sit silently for a while, calmly, ignoring the chirping noises of cell phones that threatened to call them back to the real world. Ignoring things, though, only works for a short time.

"I should probably get that," Stefan said reluctantly when his phone rings for about the twentieth time. Elena didn't move, just buried her face into his shirt. "It's Damon, it's probably important."

"Or it could just be a Scotch emergency," Elena muttered. At Stefan's somewhat guilty silence, Elena raised her head. "Oh no. What are you guys planning?"

"He's having a dinner party."

"A dinner party."

"With Alaric and Jenna and Elijah."

"When were you going to tell me about this?"

"Honestly, he only planned it this morning."

"And what are they going to do at this dinner party? Drink wine and talk about the weather?"

"Damon's going to kill Elijah."

Elena simply stared at Stefan, not blinking, not moving. The ticking clock suddenly sounded extraordinarily ominous. "You can't kill an Original."

Stefan smiled slightly. "Actually, John told Damon how to."

"John? Wait, so guys are just going behind my back to do everything?" Elena leapt up, began pacing restlessly. "Stefan, you can't do this, Elijah will just become angry and come after all of you, the deal will be off-"

"Elena, Elijah's deal gets you killed."

"And keeps everyone else alive."

"That's not good enough for me."

"Well, it's gonna have to be, because there really aren't that many options," Elena's voice showed her complete lack of control as her emotions threatened to completely take over.

Stefan stood quietly. "I told you last night, Elena. Even if you just go willingly to your death, we're not going to accept that. So yes, we might die, but at least we're fighting. So, please, will you help us?"

She can't think straight, not with this new information, not with Stefan's pleading green eyes staring so intently at her. Not that she can ever really think properly when she looks into those eyes.

Yet looking away doesn't help either. Then she sees just sees images of dead people. Her parents after being in the river for a while. Vicky Donovan's body. Jeremy with a broken neck. Then her mind starts feeding her future images, the kind that haunt her nightmares: Stefan looking grey and rotted, a corpse. Caroline with burn and bullet marks, her blonde hair ashy and pale. Bonnie looking pale and defeated. Jenna's throat slit. And standing over all of their bodies is Elijah, a cool, bone-chilling smile on his face as he glances at them and then reaches for Elena.

When she looks at Stefan her eyes are glittering with tears. "I don't... I can't let anyone else die because of me. It's happened enough already."

Stefan approaches her but she backs away, breathing heavily. "I can't- not now."

"Okay," Stefan says quietly. "Okay. Let's just... keep looking through the journals. Maybe there's more information we can use, okay?"

"Fine," Elena nods brusquely. "I'll start with these."

She grabs two and sits on the couch, huddling into a corner. Taking the hint, Stefan sat on the opposite side of the room, but he didn't really pay attention to the journal. Words didn't really register at the moment, either for Stefan or Elena. Not now.

* * *

Elena kept thinking about her parents. Different memories kept springing up, of her mother playfully pushing Jenna off the dock, her dad accidently breaking one of the windows with a baseball, the barbecues and marshmallow roasts. With the dying sunlight it's chilly, cold even, but Elena continues to stand on the porch and stare fixedly at the lake, eyes grim and mouth pressed in a thin line. She could sense Stefan in the house staring at her. That doesn't bother her at all.

Theoretically, helping the gang find a way to stop Elijah and Klaus isn't breaking the deal with Elijah. Not really. She really only agreed to not go off on any more suicide missions- keep herself, her blood, safe for Elijah. Keeping herself alive so Klaus could kill her and so Elijah could then kill Klaus.

Okay, so it wasn't the greatest plan in the world.

She had never really figured out how she was going to tell Stefan about it. She supposed she hadn't really planned on telling him, that she'd just been hoping to avoid the subject. Whenever he had asked her about the deal her replies had always been vague, even though she had never really been certain about Elijah's plan. Even just admitting her doubts about the deal to Stefan hadn't been possible for her.

Because, really, she'd been too afraid that he'd look at her differently.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: There's one more chapter, which should be posted soon. Thanks so much for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated!

* * *

The look on Stefan's face said it all, spelled out the brand new crisis they now faced.

"Elijah will come here," Elena said faintly, completely still on the couch. "He'll come here to get me."

"He's not taking you," Stefan said, his voice rough and dark.

"The only reason why he let me stay was because of the deal and now that's off."

"He's not taking you, Elena, not now, not ever." He knelt in front of her, grabbed her face. "We can run."

"He'll follow us."

"So we'll keep running."

"Stefan, he'll kill everyone I care about-"

"Elena, please, this is-"

She stops him with a kiss, a slow, gentle one, brings her hands to his face. "Running isn't an option now," she told him softly.

Right now he can't think properly- blind panic is overwhelming him, fear has totally taken control. "Are you suggesting that you just hand yourself over to him?" he demands. "Giving up- oh, except you've already done that."

He tears away from her and kicks a chair, sends it halfway across the room. She's watching him calmly, blankly. "Stefan," she says. "Stefan."

Stefan tries so hard to remain in control all the time, to keep his emotions in check. Elena's the only ones- one of the only ones- he's even remotely comfortable with taking that particular mask off. Breathing in and out, he manages, somehow, to simmer down. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his back to her. "I'm sorry."

"I know," she whispers back and runs to him.

Desperately he crushes her against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her, feels her tears drip onto his shirt. They don't have much time, before Damon or Elijah get here, but they need this, this moment. Feeling Elena's body pressing against him as she buries her face in his shirt, Stefan's oddly reminded of his childhood, of a time where all he had to do to get away from fear was pull the blankets over himself to hide from the monsters underneath the bed. If only it were that easy now.

"There's another way," Elena's muffled voice says. Her mind's been racing for the past couple of minutes, trying to come up with some sort of plan, something that will save the day. Anything that doesn't involve more people dead or her being carried off by Elijah to be kept in some evil lair. Although at least Elijah doesn't seem the type to lurk in a dungeon, so if she does get taken it probably won't be to some musty, dank basement. Even so, Elena does not want to get taken, because that would definitely involve Stefan getting killed trying to get her back.

"What way?" Stefan whispered.

Shaking, she draws back from him and quickly outlines a plan that, to her, seems pretty damn good, especially for the amount of time she had to come up with it. She's even pretty sure it would work.

Stefan disagrees. "No. Absolutely not."

"Stefan, it's our only-"

"No, you are not stabbing yourself-"

"I won't hit anything vital, and you'll be there-"

"It's too risky, Elena, you're not-"

"Well it's not like we have a lot of options at the moment!" Elena said firmly. "And between stabbing myself and getting rid of Elijah, or being Elijah's prisoner until I die, I'd rather go with option A."

"You're not stabbing yourself, you're not getting taken, and you're not dying!" Stefan shouts.

A sudden knock on the door makes both of them jump, and Stefan instinctively moves in front of Elena.

"It's me!" Damon yells rather loudly.

Despite that, Stefan gestures for Elena to stay behind him as he opens the door, half convinced that it's Elijah doing a fantastic imitation. Yet it is only Damon, his eyes glaring and his hair fantastically dishevelled.

"How did you get here so quickly?" Elena asks.

"Flew," Damon answered, and Elena wouldn't put it past him. "Um, we just going to stand here with the door open?"

"Oh. Come in," Elena gestured limply.

"Nice place," Damon remarked as he strode in. "So, what's the plan?"

Stefan and Elena glanced at each other, Stefan silently pleading with Elena, begging her to forget the "plan" and come up with anything else. Though his eyes break her heart, she can't, because the alternative would kill him more.

"You brought the dagger right?" she asks Damon, who nods. "Okay. If I stab myself, Elijah will be desperate to heal me- I'm no good to him dead. So I'll stumble or whatever out to him, then I'll stab him with the dagger."

"And he'll be dead," Damon finished. "Problem solved."

Elena nodded.

"No," Stefan said again. "Elena, you're not-"

"It's a good plan," Damon said calmly. "Well, it's a plan. What's your suggestion, Stefan?"

As Damon continues to talk, Elena watches Stefan, how he bites his lip and clenches his fists, sees the total and complete panic in his eyes. He's not taking in any of Damon's words, she realizes, (which is probably a good thing. Damon is many things, but diplomatic is not one of them). Instead, he seems to be visualizing scenarios, picturing her stabbing herself or dying or whatever, and completely freaking out. Which, really, she should be doing too, but instead an odd calmness has come over her. She crosses to him, places her hands on his shoulders. "Stefan, Stefan, look at me," she whispered. "I know you're scared, but I honestly think this could work," she hugs him close, gradually aware that Damon's stopped his rant.

Stefan looks at her. "Tell me again."

"I'll have the dagger up my sleeve," she says, surprised at how even her voice sounds. She thought it would be shaking. "I'll use a kitchen knife to... to stab myself. As soon as Elijah gives his word not to break the deal, I'll move to him and stab him and then you guys will be there and everything will be fine."

Well, fine is probably not the right word. Stefan bites his lip again, finally nods, just once. She breathes in, relieved and yet not, vaguely hears Damon say something about waiting upstairs for the event.

Stefan grips her close, desperately kisses her, tries to give her coherent instructions on where to stab herself between kisses. When Elena tries to draw away, Stefan simply pulls her closer and whispers "I love you" over and over again, half-convinced that he won't have another opportunity to say the words. Thoughts of how this could go wrong- Elijah grabbing Elena, Elena dying- run rampant through his mind, but he takes a breath, looks into Elena's eyes and tells her, "I'll be here."

"I know," Elena whispers, holding his hands to her face. "Stefan, if this doesn't work-"

"We'll figure it out," Stefan whispered.

Elena nods and then sees Stefan's face darken.

Elijah was there.


	5. Chapter 5

Sleep had never come easily to Stefan. Always when he tried to sleep, unwelcome memories would appear in his mind, from childhood embarrassments to the wild days when he was first a vampire. Although he would eventually manage to drift off to sleep, it was never as peaceful or restful as one would wish. Nowadays he found himself needing Elena to sleep at all, needed her warm body besides her, her feet touching his and her face resting on his chest. Sometimes in her sleep she seemed to sense his restlessness and would pull him closer, wrapped her body around him and further entangled herself with him.

He's pretty sure he won't sleep at all tonight. Not after watching Elena stab herself. On the porch he clutched her close while she retched, gave her more blood in hopes of easing the pain, barely hears Damon's curt words as he stares at Elena's bloody stomach. Hell, a bomb could go off nearby and he probably wouldn't notice it. Gradually, Elena stops drinking and closes her eyes, waits for a moment before trying to sit up.

"I'll get this one," Damon nudges Elijah with his foot, "into the car. You take care of her."

Finding himself unable to talk, Stefan nods brusquely and carries Elena into the house, gently, setting her on the couch. Under the glaring lights inside, Elena looks far worse than she had on the porch, her skin pale, her forehead shiny with sweat, blood coating her shirt. Stefan quickly grabbed a glass and filled it with water, returned to her side and helped her sit up to drink.

"It's okay, baby, you're okay," he kept whispering, trying to reassure both of them. "You did it, you were unbelievably awesome." He's babbling, knows he's babbling, can't help himself. When she's done drinking he helps her lie back, pulls her shirt up to inspect the wound.

"Is it bad?" Elena croaks out, watching his face closely.

"Healing," Stefan manages to say as he gingerly touches her stomach.

"That's good," Elena attempted to reach her hand up to his face, but failed miserably, her arms feeling like there were heavy weights attached to them. Silently Stefan grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

"It worked," she said quietly. "It actually worked."

Something clenched in Stefan's throat. "You were right."

Damon suddenly bounded into the room, raised an eyebrow at them. "Dead one's in the car. Ready to go?"

"Give us a minute," Elena said. "Stefan, could you get my bag, please? I'd like to change."

Nodding, Stefan kissed her hand and left the room. Elena watched warily as Damon's eyes roamed around the room, taking in the scattered journals amidst the more normal items.

"We should take the journals back with us," Elena commented. "There might be more information."

"Apart from charming stories about Stefan?" he snaps as he gathers the journals. "Did you like hearing about that side of him?"

"How did you- never mind," Elena sighed. "We've all done things we're not proud of."

Damon rolled his eyes. "You're too forgiving."

"I'm not sure you should complain about that," she replied evenly. Damon raised an eyebrow, and then looked away.

"Everything all right?" Stefan asked softly as he returned to the room.

"Fine," Damon said shortly as he walked out with the stack of journals. "I'll be in the car."

Stefan raised his eyebrows at Elena, but didn't say anything as he sat down and gave a shirt to Elena. She shrugged, wincing at the motion, and allowed Stefan to help her change to a clean shirt. She does seem to be healing, he thinks: she's looking more normal, more alive, and even more exhausted.

He can't help himself. He pulls her closer and kisses her desperately, passionately, trying to convey with how much he loves her and needs her.

It takes them a long time to break apart.

In the car Elena quickly falls asleep, her head nestled in Stefan's lap. He finds that he can't stop touching her, running a hand through her hair, stroking her face, gripping her hands. Ever since they've gotten back together he finds himself constantly needing to touch her, something she's equally inclined to do. Hands intertwining, lips locking, private or public, it doesn't matter.

She mumbles something and Stefan rubs her shoulder gently, glad she's able to rest.

"She all right?" Damon ventures. Stefan had almost forgotten he was there.

"I think so," Stefan said cautiously. "Thanks for your help."

"Seems like Elena had everything under control," was Damon's response. He left the words "like Katherine" unspoken, but both brothers are aware of the implication.

Stefan hadn't reacted well to Elena's plan. Well, that was an understatement. He'd protested, shouted, cried, tried everything he could think of to dissuade Elena. It had taken both Elena and Damon to persuade him to go through with it, Damon gesticulating and talking at rapid fire speed, Elena looking him in the eye and levelly saying it was the only way. Stefan knows he acted foolishly, petulantly, throwing furniture around and trying to break things because what he really wanted to do was stake Elijah, cut off his head, burn the body, throw the ashes down a vervain well, and then run off with Elena to Rome.

"Hey," Elena mumbled sleepily, looking up at him.

"Hi," he leaned down, touching her face.

"Where are we?"

"Almost home, love, go back to sleep."

He presses his forehead against her and cradles her closer, relieved that Damon is actually there and driving because there would be no way in hell that he could drive tonight.

* * *

By the time Elena and Stefan make it upstairs to his room, it's almost midnight and Elena still insists on checking her phone messages, then on calling Bonnie. As much as Stefan privately balks at this, wanting her to rest and not worry, he doesn't object. Knowing Elena, not calling Bonnie would result in more trouble, more panic. So he curls besides her on the bed while she talks, carefully pushes her shirt up to once again inspect the wound, circling around it slowly, looking up to see if that hurt her. She smiled at him, pressed his hand against her skin.

"Oh my god, Bonnie, are you okay? I am so sorry. What can I do to help?... Okay... Okay. Do you... okay. Yeah... But seriously, anything, anything at all. And I am so sorry... yeah, get some sleep. Love you," she sighs and hung up, carefully placed her phone on the bedside table. She glanced at Stefan. "Did you get that?"

"Jonas Martin took Bonnie's powers? Yeah. She sounded-"

"Bad?"

"Very shaken."

"You would make such a great spy," she murmured. "Poor Bonnie. Maybe you could talk to Jonas Martin?"

He snorts. "Right, because that worked so well with Tyler Lockwood, as Caroline will tell you."

"Stefan." Her voice is sharp and tense. "You did your best with Tyler, and you got through to him-"

"Not soon enough."

He stares steadily at Elena's stomach, not meeting her eyes when she slowly sits up and touches his face.

"You try so hard to see the best in people," she said softly. "Why can't you do the same for yourself?"

She leaned forward and kissed him, her lips coaxing his into a response- because, really, when Elena kisses him, it's not like he can just sit back and not respond. He's not sure that's physically possible. Not for him.

"Sorry," he mutters. "Sorry I yelled. Earlier."

"I would have done the same thing," she admitted. "Although, you did kind of break an antique chair."

"Antique?"

"Well, if you consider 1910s antique."

"Calling me old?"

"You said it, I didn't."

They both laugh, harder than the words warrant, but both are eager for some sort of release.

After a moment he clears his throat, looking shyly at her, "I am sorry, Elena."

She nodded, bit her lip. "I'm sorry too. I honestly didn't mean to hurt you, I was just trying to protect you," she smiles ruefully. "Maybe we should try a little less harder to do that."

That's not physically possible for either of them, and they both know it.

"Come on," she grabs his hand and pulls him up. "Let's shower. I feel like I'm covered in Elijah grime or something."

* * *

Elena sleeps soundly, flat on her back, one arm flung across Stefan's chest as he moved closer to her. It's different from how she normally sleeps. Usually she's on her side, turned towards him, slightly curled or tilted, a leg flung over his. Her breathing's normal, though, which is what Stefan is mainly concerned about.

He also realizes that if anyone could hear his thoughts right now, they'd think he was a creepy stalker.

Which he kind of is.

It's not like he's going to sleep tonight.

* * *

AN: Thank you so much for the feedback so far! There's going to be another (short) chapter (epilogue) that wraps this whole story up, and I should have that posted in a day or two.


	6. Chapter 6

Um, so somehow "a few days" turned into more than a week later. I'm so sorry for the delay! Real life, etc. Read/review/enjoy!

* * *

Elena wakes up because of Stefan. At least, she's pretty sure he's the reason, although it could have been from some wicked nightmare involving Elijah or werewolves or both. Stefan's restless body is definitely a culprit as well. He keeps turning from side to side, yet always keeps a hand on her hip.

The next time he turns away from her, she grumbles something incoherent and stretches to attach her body firmly to his. "Stefan", she murmurs and kisses his neck.

Instantly he turns again to face her. "I'm sorry, love, go back to sleep."

She raises an eyebrow. "Only if you do."

"Elena..."

"Stefan, I'm not going to break."

One of his hands creeps to where she had stabbed herself and she can tell by the look in his eyes that that particular moment was currently replaying in his mind, that all he can see is Elena stabbing herself and falling. She has to erase that image from his mind. So she kisses him, sliding her hands along his body, smiling slightly when Stefan's lips forcefully press against hers. Maybe this was what they both needed, this touch of normalcy to strip away the chaos of the night, the bad moments of the day.

In an instance Stefan had her on her back as he pulled her shirt off. Planting kisses down her body, he placed his hands on her breast while he kissed her stomach, his tongue circling the skin the knife had pierced. Elena moaned softly and dug her fingers into his hair, encouraged him to go lower, to quit teasing her. Yet Stefan insists on taking his time, and pretty soon Elena's not bothering to keep her moans quiet.

Elena laughed softly when Stefan had collapsed besides her. He glanced at her, more than half tempted to go again, but figuring it would probably be good to wait at least a minute or two. To do that required him to keep his eyes focused on Elena's pillow rather than on Elena herself, as looking at her really wouldn't help with the whole waiting thing. Elena's really not helping matters by climbing on top of him and slowly kissing his neck.

"I told you I wouldn't break," she whispered and gently nipped at his throat. A loud peal of laughter burst from her when Stefan abruptly flipped them over, deciding to screw the whole waiting game.

Waiting had never really suited either of them, anyways. Besides, they'd had enough of waiting earlier, waiting for the other to back down or speak, waiting for Elijah. The weekend was supposed to have been about them, about spending time together, with or without clothing.

Tonight- what's left of it- is about making up for lost time.


End file.
